Ficlet Parade
by S J Smith
Summary: Standalone ficlets for various challenges I've picked up. Various pairings and ratings. Chapter 28: Mustang Tachi
1. Slipped Away Edward,Winry

Slipped Away

S J Smith

Rating: Anyone can read

Summary: A ficlet written to the title of Avirl Lavigne's "Slipped Away" - Edward/Winry pairing

Disclaimer: I would be thrilled if some morning I woke up owning some part of FMA. But I don't.

* * *

Time moved fast in battle but also slowed, until it seemed like fractions of seconds went by like hours. He couldn't compare it to this; it wasn't a battle, after all, not even an argument, just Winry, and him, and moonlight. It seemed like her lashes drifted down over her eyes as slow as an hour; that her moistening her lips took a century. Realizing he was staring, Ed turned his gaze toward the moon but it didn't have the same draw as the young woman standing next to him.

"What?" Winry gave him a smile, a little curious; a little confused and Ed realized then, there, exactly why Hughes had taken all those pictures.

Time slipped away so very fast.

* * *


	2. Shine Riza,Maes

Shine

S J Smith

Rating: Teen

Summary: Ficlet written to the title of Cyndi Lauper's, "Shine", Riza/Maes pairing

Disclaimer: Don't own. (Waaaah!)

* * *

It wasn't the place or the time. Riza couldn't allow herself to grieve, not publicly, not the way Maes' wife and daughter could. She had to keep it all inside for now, until she could make sure Roy made it away from the cemetery. Until she could get someplace where she could let her tears fall.

_ - the sunlight gleaming off the lid of the casket, seeming to unerringly strike her eyes - _

_- the glitter of his buttons on his dress uniform, and Maes' laughter when she popped them off in her eagerness to get to his skin - _

_- the shine off the lenses of his glasses, until he shifted the position of his head and she could see his eyes - _

Riza forced all the memories away, locking them in her heart, sorrow turning the day's brilliance into rain.

* * *


	3. Doveregubbon’s Hall Roy,Izumi

S J Smith

Rating: Teen? Maybe.

Summary: A ficlet involving Roy - Izumi, based off the title "Doveregubbon's Hall". This is a very, very A.U. story. Think if Izumi found out what the brothers had done _before_ Ed actually joined the military.

* * *

She didn't like him. That much was evident in her scowl, her folded arms. The sharp downturn of her mouth. "You," she said, ignoring Hawkeye's attempt to stop her from entering the room; casually knocking Havoc off his feet when he reached for her. Her hands slammed down on the top of the desk, actually making the wood groan.

"Me?" Roy gave the woman a cautious smile. Who the hell was she? He knew all of his dates – _contacts_, he reminded himself – and this woman wasn't any of them. For one thing, she looked like she could kick serious ass and there were only two women Roy knew who did that regularly – and both of them were blond.

She leaned over the papers on the desk, some of her braided tendrils swinging over her shoulder, reminding Roy of that old story about the chimera woman with snakes for hair. "Care to tell me how you coerced a child to join the military?"

"Coerced?" Roy frowned back up at her. "I just made an offer to a kid who needed help. There was no coercion."

The woman seemed to positively loom over him, visions of dark clouds and lightning dancing above her head. Her knuckles cracked and popped and Roy found himself thinking, 'Damn, she's hot,' and hoping his reaction wasn't too noticeable.

"That boy is not going to become some soldier, not going to become a 'human weapon.'" Her dark eyes glittered at Roy. "I'll make sure of it." With that, she spun on her heel, striding out of the office, past the dumbfounded Havoc and the obviously amused Hawkeye. Roy heard, "C'mon, honey, let's go to Rezembool so I can beat some sense into those two students of mine," and an answering, monosyllabic response. The antechamber door slammed shut and Roy had the impression that he'd just missed being struck by lightning.

"Who was that, boss?" Breda asked, poking his head through the doorway.

"I'm not sure," Roy murmured, getting out of his chair to head to the window. He watched through it as, finally, a woman and a large man exited the East HQ building, moving in the direction of the train station. "But I have the feeling we'll see her again some day."

* * *


	4. Popsicle Stick Sciezca, Ed

Popsicle Stick

S J Smith

Rating: Anyone can read

Summary: Ficlet to the prompt of "Popsicle stick" and "Sciezca" (With Ed added to the mix).

Disclaimer: Oh, so do not own.

* * *

Popsicles were a surprise to Sciezca; her mother was too poor to afford such things and her own money went toward her own passion of buying books. But Edward Elric shoved one at her with the admonition that she 'eat it!' before it melted over his hand. It was only after she finished the treat that Sciezca realized she still had to deal with the tacky stick it left behind.

* * *


	5. Engage Hohenheim, the Fuhrer

Engage

S J Smith

Rating: Anyone can read

Summary: Ficlet to the prompts of: Hohenheim, the Fuhrer.

Disclaimer: Do not own (but am busy squeeing over chapter 88...and having written this ficlet back in July, I feel that I wrote Papa Hoho pretty much in character).

* * *

Hohenheim scratches the back of his head, the corners of his mouth turning down. He knew he'd have to face the homunculus he'd helped create; the thing that had formed itself in his shape; the thing that he'd helped birth through the death of a nation. For some reason, he'd not considered fighting the Fuhrer to reach his double. Well, oversight on his part didn't mean that he'd lose the battle, and Hohenheim smiled engagingly before stepping into the fight.

* * *


	6. Mouse Edward,Winry

Mouse

S J Smith

Rating: Anyone can read

Disclaimer: So do not own

Summary: Ficlet written to the prompts of "Ed" and "mouse".

* * *

"Who are you calling so small he could be caught in a mouse trap!" Edward's voice rose in aggrandized fury, even his hair seeming to puff up in rage.

Winry, her hand on the little girl's shoulder, gave him a sour look in response. "I was talking about the toy mouse I fixed for Elicia." She straightened to show him a wind up toy on her outstretched hand.

"Oh. Aheh." Edward scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, for once, at his own overreaction.

* * *


	7. Loneliness Greed20

Loneliness

S J Smith

Rating: Anyone can read

Summary/Spoilers: Indirect spoilers for chapters 83 and 84 of the manga. Ficlet based on the challenge prompts of "Greed" and "Loneliness".

--

--

--

He couldn't understand the loss that seemed to well up inside; the pit that just couldn't seem to be filled. The boy's spirit, still inside him, not absorbed yet, teased him into letting the alchemist and the two chimera join him and that almost seemed to curb it; almost. But it wasn't until he saw the way the alchemist acted around the mechanic girl that he understood what it was like to be alone.

* * *


	8. All Wound Up Roy, Riza

All Wound Up

S J Smith

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: I am so not Arakawa-sensei, drat it.

Summary: "What's the saying? 'Love me, love my dog.'"

* * *

Everything was over. The battles fought, the war won, with undeniably hard losses, true, but that was for another day's thought. Right now, this second, Roy Mustang was in an apartment (albeit not one of his choosing; why would the military allow one of their own to rent such a rundown place?), with the most beautiful woman he knew, a bottle of champagne and a fresh tin of condoms. He didn't plan on leaving this place until he needed to go buy another tin. (The fact that meant…probably tomorrow morning…was one he was willing to ignore for the moment. Three times in twenty-four hours was good for a man his age. Not that he was old or anything.)

"You're thinking too hard." Riza's expression sent chills up his spine and heat someplace decidedly lower and Roy grinned, starting for his lover –

- only to have something tangle in his feet. Stumbling, Roy stared down at Hayate. The dog's plumy tail wagged, his forelegs wrapped tightly around Roy's ankle. "Riza?"

"Hayate." She spoke the dog's name tenderly, in a way Roy thought would be far more appropriate directed at _him_, and the dog barked, his tail wagging even faster. "He wants to play."

"So do I." Roy looked from the dog to Riza and then, more tellingly, toward the bedroom door. "With you."

"What's the saying? 'Love me, love my dog.'" Riza chuckled, heading toward the bedroom. "I'll be waiting after you two come back from your walk," she called over her shoulder, closing the bedroom door with a decided, 'click'.

* * *


	9. Pages in Time: Ling Ed

Pages In Time

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Future!fic for the manga.

Pairings: Hints of Ling/Ed; Ling's POV

Disclaimer: Still not Arakawa-Sensei.

* * *

You remember.

There are times when you think you are the only one who does, though that isn't quite true. You're simply the only person in the kingdom of Xing who remembers an Amestrian alchemist known as 'Fullmetal'. You are the one who remembers a pair of steel brothers and their lovely friend (oh, and how jealous Ed was, whenever you flirted with Winry). Some days, you almost think you hear them talking to you and Greed laughs at your foolishness. Some days, you remember Ed, the strength of his convictions, his stubborn pride.

The others who would've remembered (and called Ed argumentative, at best), are long gone, their ashes long since scattered to the winds. You still mourn Ran Fan's loss, though her great-granddaughter guards you with the same diligence. (It does not stop the longing.)

Such is the price for immortality; one's closest companions do not live with you forever, they journey on to a place you cannot. It is something you've reconciled yourself to, mostly, though you wonder sometimes what it might take to kill the creature you accepted into your body. What price would you have to pay, to discover that? How many times would you have to die?

Would death, in the end, be worth it?

You wish you could ask Ed but his place is in history now and yours, as always, moves forward through time.

"Put me in the Xing history books," Ed told you, so long ago.

His history is written in your soul.

* * *


	10. Black Out Ran Fan, GreedLing

Blackout  
S J Smith

Rating:Teen

Warnings: Sex (possibly non-con)

Pairing: Lan Fan and Greed!Ling.

* * *

She sees nothing, not even the faintest hint of light. It is what she requests and _he_ doesn't deny her this – complete darkness when _he_ comes to her. The creature is not her prince, not the boy she grew up protecting, not the young man she knew she loved. There might be some similarities – Ling told her that much, during one of the times he was in command of their (_ Ling's_) body, otherwise the creature might've swallowed her prince's soul whole, leaving nothing but a carcass behind.

_His_ hands touched her, smoothed over her skin, woke her desires. His caresses were nothing like Ling's even though the touch was the same. All of her senses screamed that _he_ was not Ling but she allowed this, all the same. How could she protest? Ling was now emperor. His word was law. She could not naysay him; there was no point in even considering the rebuff.

But she could do this – make _him_ come to her in darkness, not force her to witness someone else manipulating her (Ling's) body. And even as _he_ lifted her to heights of passion, Lan Fan knew Ling's soul cried out with hers, like the sound of bitter tears wept in total darkness.

* * *


	11. Secrets Not Worth Telling: Hohenheim

Secrets Not Worth Telling

S J Smith

Rating: Teenish

Characters: Hoheheim, Pinako, Dominic

Summary: He lets her keep his secrets.

Disclaimer: Do I look like a Holstein to you…? Wait, don't answer that.

Warning: Pre-Manga.

A.N.: Thanks to D. M. Evans for looking this over.

* * *

Pinako was running a scam, Hohenheim was sure of it. No one was so lucky to win that many hands of poker in one game. The fact that Dominic couldn't keep up – either with the game or the beer – put him against the odds for being her partner in crime. Unless, of course, he was a very good actor, but Hohenheim just didn't see it. Dominic seemed too in awe of Pinako for that sort of thing. Well, 'awe' might not be the right word, but Hohenheim thought it worked, at least until Pinako decided what she was going to do to the man. With that wicked grin glinting as she raked in the latest pot, Hohenheim decided he really didn't want to know her decision. She was a big girl; she could take care of herself.

That decided, he held up his hand before the cards were dealt. "You've taken enough of my money tonight, Pinako."

"You just don't like losing your sens to a woman." Her pipe burned gently, haloing her head in thin wreaths of smoke.

Grabbing Dominic's shoulder, Hohenheim shoved him back in his chair. "Maybe the game's turned sour." His nose wrinkled as Dominic belched, the acrid fumes polluting the air. "Or maybe it's just Dominic."

Pinako waved a hand in front of her nose to disperse the stench as Dominic landed, face down, on the table. "So, do we leave him here? I'd hate to have to carry him."

"It's not really right to leave him behind, is it?" Hohenheim prodded Dominic's shoulder, making the man snort. "Besides, the bartender doesn't look like she'd allow Dominic to sleep here."

Her mouth turning down, Pinako glared at the bartender. The other woman glowered right back, a silent clash of wills that should've sent sparks flying. Hohenheim decided never to get between a pair of women who looked like that. It even made the air feel close and stuffy and Hohenheim took the better part of valor and shifted back out of the way.

"You can leave him on the sidewalk, for all I care," the barkeep told them, "but he ain't stayin'."

They hauled up Dominic between them, Pinako's strength surprising Hohenheim though he shouldn't be shocked; Pinako worked with metal; hammering, cutting and shaping it into replacement limbs. She was strong and her blue eyes held the secrets that Hohenheim allowed her – they first met when she was just a child, Pinako was too smart for her own good and recognized what Hohenheim had never let others see – that it was impossible to hurt him; that he didn't change, even through the years she'd known him.

It was a gamble, letting her know even that much, but Hohenheim trusted her. As if she could read his thoughts, Pinako's eyes turned toward his, a dangerous little smile lighting her face. "Let's dump him off and go have some real fun, Hohenheim."

He groaned, shifting Dominic's dead weight. "You'll be the death of me one day."

* * *


	12. Secret Boyfriend: Chang Mei

Secret Boyfriend

Written for the Live Journal community, FMA Fic Contest, for the prompt 'Flush'.

A.N.: Chang Mei isn't one of my favorite characters in FMA, but the prompt just screamed her name.

* * *

Chang Mei had set herself up as her clan's savior, to be the one who'd bring the secret of immortality back to the Emperor of Xing. She had made a promise to herself and to her grandmother and grandfather, though her family hadn't realized it until she'd left with Xiao Mei to cross the Desert to the West to reach the land of Amestris. She hoped her family would forgive her for leaving them with just a note.

Her arrival in Amestris was unheralded but at least she'd found a possible helpmate in the name of Edward Elric, the youngest State Alchemist of Amestris. Once she actually found him, Mei was sure a man such as he would help her obtain the secret of immortality. Her clan would be rescued – her father would certainly let her marry her dashing Edward – and they would love each other for the rest of their lives.

Then she found Edward Elric attacking Mr. Scar. The rude, violent bean boy broke her heart. Her dreams twisted and crumpled to dust, leaving her flushed with rage when she realized the Fullmetal Alchemist would never help fill them.


	13. Going to Extremes: EdWin

X X X

It wasn't a moment of extremes.

Not all of them were, anyway. Maintaining that kind of emotion – that kind of life – would be exhausting (not that they hadn't tried – they were human, guilty of pride perhaps more than any other sin). But they'd learned, early on in their relationship (once it had moved past screaming at each other, pouting, door slamming, and other ruses to get the other's attention), that quiet moments were to be desired just as much as those loud ones.

And so, Winry nestled into his arms, her head tucked under his chin, and Edward stroked her back, listening to the sound of her breathing. Matching his breath to hers. Thinking, maybe, he ought to move that strand of her hair tickling over the still sensitive scar on his collarbone – but that it was too much effort.

This was something he'd never want to change, the feeling of Winry's weight against his chest, her scent in his nostrils, her warmth enveloping him.

Okay, so it was extreme. Just a really quiet version of it.

X X X


	14. Goals: Winry

**Title:** Goals

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer:** Arakawa owns all.

**Summary:** Winry has her goals.

X X X

An automail mechanic had to take into account a lot of details when building a new piece of automail. How the piece would be used, and by what sort of person. A grandmother might not need the heft and weight of a leg that a young man would. A child could outgrow automail, so something adjustable might be a good idea. A soldier's automail might have weapons built into it, which meant the mechanic had to take into account the wiring, hydraulics and the weight of the weapon, so it wouldn't throw off the soldier's balance, even when the weapon was being utilized.

Winry designed each piece of automail with the customer in mind. She wanted to create something her customers could rely on. Every one made to certain specifications, each one an improvement on the one that she'd made before. She had her pride, after all, coupled with a desire to help people the best way she could. Her automail was often that way.

A soft rap on the door went unnoticed. The hand on her shoulder brought her out of her research. "Oh, Winry, you work so hard!" Mr Garfiel shook his head, his pin curl sideburns dancing. "You're going to strain your pretty eyes." Scooping up her notes, he pointed toward her bed. "No arguing, now! I'll give these to you tomorrow, over breakfast!"

Winry did as she was ordered, listening as Mr Garfiel hummed his way through the building. Finally hearing a door close, she turned on her bedlight, reaching under the mattress to pull out a magazine. _Automailers Monthly_ had a great spread on new hydraulics coming out of God Studio and she wanted to know all about them.

Her career was built on details. She'd use her skills to build people's lives.

X X X


	15. Eye Sex: Alphonse, RoyRiza

**Title: **Eye Sex

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+

**Summary: **Alphonse has been watching.

**Disclaimer: **If I had any part of this, I wouldn't be living in Boxtown.

X X X

They were completely circumspect. No one could fault them for that, particularly for their military relationship to one another – commander and subordinate. Alphonse listened to gossip around the cafeterias where his brother ate. He knew all too well that there were others who took advantage of such situations. Anything untoward was absent from them, from First Lieutenant Hawkeye's stern expression and deadpan voice, to Colonel Mustang's ability to treat her as he did the others under his command.

Still, it was obvious to Alphonse, even before that night beneath Lab Three, where First Lieutenant Hawkeye had broken down at the thought of the colonel's death. The looks that they exchanged, from briefest glance to lingering gaze, all told a story the military regulations would do more than frown upon. No matter what strictures their roles as placed on them, the military masks they wore couldn't compete with the heat in their eyes.

X X X

.


	16. That Kind of News: RebeccaJean

**Title: **That Kind of News

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+

**Summary: **Rebecca has something to tell Jean.

**Disclaimer: **If I had any part of this, I wouldn't be living in Boxtown

* * *

There was a thickness in the air, and everything had slowed down. Jean stared at Rebecca, his mouth dangling open. He hoped he hadn't swallowed his cigarette. "Say that again."

"I'm pregnant." Rebecca stood there, her hands on her hips, her eyes wide and worried, and somehow, she still looked strong and yet, somehow vulnerable. And then her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed, and her mouth tightened, and Jean knew he was in for it. "Say something!"

"Wow?" he managed to get out.

He wasn't out of the woods yet, not if those folding arms and tapping foot were any indication. "'Wow'? That's all you have to say?"

A thousand thousand things spun through his head, and Jean hoped that whatever spilled out of his mouth was nicer than 'wow'. Damn, what was he thinking – oh, yeah, not thinking – when he'd said that? "No. That's not it." He grabbed her hips and pulled her over to him. Putting his cigarette in the ashtray, Jean pressed his chin against her belly, looking up at her. "What I wanted to say was, 'Wow! That's amazing, baby!' Because it is. We're having a baby!" He nuzzled her stomach, giving it a kiss, which led to another, which led to Rebecca rubbing her hands through his hair, and making that little rumbley sound deep in her throat.

"We're not going out to celebrate this, are we?" Rebecca asked, tugging at Jean's hair.

The naughty grin he gave her, the way he stood up, sweeping her off her feet, answered that question. And from Rebecca's delighted shriek when they fell on to the bed together, she didn't mind it at all.


	17. Too Cold

**Title: ** Too Cold

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+

**Summary: **Roy hates the North.

**Disclaimer: ** Arakawa, Bones, and a lot of other people own the rights to FMA. Sadly, I'm not one of them.

**Notes: **Written for Seta Suzume.

* * *

In his head, Olivier Mille Armstrong is snorting, and saying, "Mustang, you're too delicate."

It isn't that he's delicate, Roy wants to argue, but that he's not built for this kind of weather. He deserves better; warmer, rather than huddled up in these winter clothes. Even through the cotton of his underclothes, the wool _itches_ and makes his skin prickle. And no matter how much he waxed his boots, snow still melted inside of them, and his feet blistered from the wet socks. "I'm not built for this kind of weather," he tells himself, ignoring the Olivier-in-his-mind's loud huff. He'd grown up in Central, and, aside from the time he'd spent at the Hawkeyes' drafty mansion, he'd rarely been in the north, or dealt with snow. Nasty stuff.

"I'm making a resolution," he said, "when I'm Fuhrer, I'm never coming north again."


	18. The End of the Trail

**Title:** The End of the Trail

* * *

When they reached the end of the trail into the Ishbalan camp, the sky seemed to be paler here in the desert than in Briggs, though the sun shone down relentlessly, its brilliance managing to tease Miles's eyes. He blinked behind his tight-fitting sunglasses, shading his face with his forearm. "I didn't realize it would be so bright," he said.

"No worse than snow blindness in the mountains," Dr. Marcoh said, his ruined mouth twisting in a smile. "And a lot warmer." He sighed, stretching his arms. "And I can't say how happy I am to get off that horse."

Miles nodded, searching the faces of the people who watched them. Studied them. He could feel the wariness of those stares and understood it, despite the resemblance he bore to them. He and Marcoh were strangers, and Ishbalans had learned all too well to beware of people they didn't know.

"Miles. Marcoh." The familiar, deep voice caught their attention, and they turned to see the scarred Ishbalan walking through the others.

As he drew near, Marcoh teased, "Is that a smile?"

The scarred Ishbalan let out an exhalation that could only be considered a snort. "I hope the two of you are ready to get your hands dirty. There's a lot of work to be done."

Miles nodded, taking off his glasses to reveal his ruby gaze. "I think we can handle it," he said, tucking the glasses into the sleeve of his desert clothing. He wouldn't need them here, after all. No more hiding from his heritage; now he could learn more about his people from the best source of all: The Ishbalans, themselves.

Maybe this was like to finally come home.

X X X


	19. Walking the Dog

**Title:** Walking the Dog

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** K+ to Teenish for implications

**Summary: **Riza's walking Hayate on a snowy evening.

**Note: **Written for the LJ community, Fanfic_Bakeoff, for the prompt: Riza, walking the dog in the snow.

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own any of this, I've got some bog land in Indiana to sell you.

* * *

Snow drifted down through the night sky, and Riza tightened her jacket more closely around herself. Black Hayate looked over his shoulder at her, flakes dotting his black fur. He blinked and shook himself, making his tags jingle.

"Don't worry," Riza told him, "we'll get warmed up soon."

They walked through the quiet street, Black Hayate kicking up snow. He sneezed, digging his nose in the beginning of a pile at the base of a streetlamp. Hayate lifted his leg, his yellow stream melting the snow. Riza glanced sideways, hearing a door open in the snow-influenced silence, and a trickle of music escaping. A man tugged his hat down over his eyes, pulling his long coat around himself. He nodded at Riza, and she nodded back before he trotted away, heading down the street in the opposite direction.

Hayate wagged his tail, tongue spilling out in a doggy grin. Riza smiled back. "Are you ready to go?"

The snow made a blanket over Hayate's back as they walked on, flakes catching in Riza's lashes. If it kept snowing like this, there'd be a white out, and the city would be stalled until it could be cleared up. In the distance, she could make out a figure waiting at a corner, outside a familiar bar. The Scarlet Cock was warm, and music played, and beautiful women stole secrets from men who didn't know any better. And other secrets could be kept there, including the one she knew, that she'd be meeting her lover in one of the rooms above the bar that night.

Riza picked up the pace, a fire igniting in her belly and spreading its warmth through her body. She wouldn't make him wait any longer.


	20. The Price He Pays

_**The Price He Pays  
**_

* * *

Sitting outside the room of the ramshackle house where his servant lay bleeding, Ling cursed the day he had decided to come to Amestris. What arrogance he'd had, believing that he could find the Philosopher's Stone and return to Xing without paying any price. And look at the fortune he'd paid. Shedding his own blood would've meant nothing to him, but Ran Fan's blood, her flesh and bones, her entire arm missing – that was a price beyond any that he had expected to pay.

Upon his arrival in Rush Valley, he'd learned there would be a cost for Amestrian alchemy. The Elric brothers provided proof of that, with Ed's metal arm and leg and the hollow suit of armor that housed Alphonse's soul. Ed's explanation had been sketchy at best, but Ling recognized the arrogance in their attempt to raise the dead as a similar emotion that had pushed him into attacking the homunculus. With the intensive training both Ran Fan and he had gone through to protect themselves, and specifically, for Ran Fan to shield him, Ling had never thought either of them would be harmed. The Amestrian Fuhrer proved to be a being beyond any that Ling had ever encountered before, and Ran Fan was the one who paid the price for that encounter.

"Hold that light steady! Girl, you have to stay still!" the doctor shouted from that inner room.

The sound of Ran Fan's cries cut into his soul. Gritting his teeth, Ling vowed that somehow, he would find a way to make it up to her, even if it was more arrogance on his part.


	21. At The Gates Of, EdTruthAl

_**At The Gates Of  
**_

* * *

You remember this place from the last time(s) you were here. The white expanse seems to stretch out forever, giving you no point of reference except for the being sitting in front of you, a smile stretching its otherwise featureless face.

"I'm not leaving without my brother," you say.

Its smile widens, and suddenly, somehow, you see beyond it, to an emaciated figure. Last time you were here, he was sitting before a doorway. Now…

"Al!" you scream, reaching for that slumped body, not moving, not breathing. "Al! No, Al!"

Behind you, the doors start gaping open, and the black, ribbon-like hands, reach from that opening to pull you back through. You scream and struggle, trying to reach your little brother, but whatever you do, you cannot break free.

"Al!"

"What is it, Brother?"

You jerk awake, adrenaline and pain swimming through your body. "Al?"

"Was it a nightmare?" he asks, voice ringing metallically through the suit of armor. He leans toward you, the featureless metal somehow offering empathy.

"Yeah," you gulp, wrapping your arms around your bent legs, burying your face in your knees. You have an affinity for the stupid things. Just once, when a storm blows up, you'd like to sleep through the night without waking in a cold sweat and a need to vomit.

"What did you dream about this time?" Alphonse asks.

You shiver, remembering the lifeless form – his body, sprawled in front of forever-closed doors. "Nothing," you say, tightening your grip on your legs. "Nothing at all."


	22. Stewed

_**Stewed**_

* * *

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Hohenheim peered at her, his eyes nearly as big as a pair of gold thousand cen pieces.

Trisha chuckled. "Honey, it's just standing next to a stove, stirring stew for dinner."

"But before that you had to sear the meat, and cut the vegetables, and make the stock." He fretted, running a hand over the back of his head and giving the end of his ponytail a tug for good measure. "I mean, you're huge." Even he realized that might not be the best thing to say, and raised his hands in front of him. "I mean, you're…you're so pregnant!"

"Honey," Trisha said with a sigh, "women have been working while being pregnant for as long as people have been alive."

"I know but," Hohenheim dithered, then made a decision. Sweeping into the kitchen, he took her spoon. "You should go rest. Sit down. Put your feet up. I'll finish dinner!"

Trisha looked into the stew pot, then back at her husband. "Or," she said, knowing just how bad he was at cooking, "I could put the flame on low," she did, "and we could both go sit down, and you could rub my feet for me." And, she thought, she could send him back to the kitchen to stir the stew occasionally, to keep it from sticking to the bottom of the pot.

His brilliant smile let her know she'd made the right offer. "I can do that!" Putting his arm around her waist, Hohenheim let her lean on him as they left the kitchen.

Really, Trisha thought, he was just the sweetest man.


	23. Go Round In Circles

_**Go Round In Circles  
**_

* * *

Fuu narrowed his eyes at the sky. No clouds to mar it, it reminded him of a mirror, though it reflected nothing.

"We are lost." The whine came from inside the small tent behind Fuu.

"No, young lord," came another voice, gently reassuring. "We are not lost."

Fuu hoped his granddaughter was right. There were no landmarks in this part of the desert. Merchant tribes traveled the area, he knew; he'd traded for the maps to take them from Xing to the strange country of Amestris on the prince's quest to find something called a 'Philosopher's Stone'. The compass had started swinging wildly while they were traveling the night before, the needle no longer pointing north but spinning around in its case like a dervish. At first, it had been an amazing sight, but it had become something like a nightmare as they realized the spinning wasn't stopping. "Maybe that means we are close to Xerxes!" Lin had said hopefully, but a spinning needle would lead them nowhere but in circles.

They'd bedded down for the night in hopes the morning sun might lend itself to their aid. Now, Fuu was going to leave the youngsters and hope something turned up, otherwise, the young prince's quest might be over before they even reached Amestris. Chastising himself, Fuu knew he couldn't think that way. They would find a way out of the desert, and to Amestris, and return to Xing with the Stone – and the Yao Clan would be safe.


	24. One Day Soon

_**One Day Soon  
**_

* * *

_I'm gonna die._

I know it. I don't wanna live, anyway. Momma and Daddy are gone, and so are my legs. No one wants a little girl without legs, except that creepy man who follows me around. He makes my skin tight when he looks at me, but I don't let him get me anywhere alone. Nope. I always make sure I'm on the street, where people can see me – because I don't want he's got to offer.

He's scary, and bigger than me. Bigger even than Daddy. And he stares at me and licks his lips and smiles at me when he knows I'm looking. He even waves his hand, like he wants me to come closer. I try not to look. I don't want to see his face, and think about what he's dreaming, when he sees me.

But it's scary, being by myself. It's so hot here, and no one wants to even see me. In the hospital, the doctor said I could get automail, but I don't have money, and when he found out about Momma and Daddy, he had me turned out. I can't pay the hospital for taking care of me.

I remember what it was like, lying there after the accident and seeing all the blood. Momma had her eyes closed, and she looked all right, like she was sleeping, except for that blot of blood next to her mouth, and the way her body was ripped in half. I never did see Daddy, but the doctor said he died, too. I don't know where they're buried. There wasn't any money for a funeral.

Sometimes, I wish they hadn't found me, took me to the hospital, stopped the bleeding and sewed up my legs. Then I'd still be with Momma and Daddy.

Momma always told me I was strong enough to be what I want, but I'm nothing like that. I'm just a lump that no one sees. I'm not even strong enough to live, no matter what Momma said.

One of these days, I'll let that scary man take me wherever he wants, 'cause Momma and Daddy are waiting for me.

One day soon, I'm gonna die.


	25. In Training - AlMeiXiao Mei

_**In Training  
**_

* * *

Mei slapped the floor of the hut repeatedly. "No, no, no!" Next to her, Xiao Mei waved her paws. "You're wrong!"

Alphonse groaned. "It's not making any sense. I don't get this whole 'dragon's pulse' thing." If he'd had legs, he would've gotten up and stomped off. As it was, not having those limbs made it impossible to do anything, except sit and talk to whomever might come near enough to bend an ear. Winry was usually close by, but even she'd gotten fed up with the continuous arguments between him and Mei over her alchemy. _Alkahestry,_ he reminded himself. "Maybe we should talk about something else for a change."

Eyes narrowing, Mei said, "I thought you wanted to learn, Alphonse-sama!"

"I do!" He held up his one hand to block that scowl. Angry women were scary, even when they were little girls. And Xiao Mei showed a lot of sharp teeth. Not that she'd hurt him if she did bite; she'd probably break her teeth. "I'm just thinking that maybe we need to take a break from alkahestry and talk about something else for a change."

Mei opened her mouth, as if to make a sharp retort, then closed it again slowly. Her expression turned curious and she cocked her head, her braids slipping over her shoulder. "What would we talk about?"

"Why don't you tell me about growing up in Xing?"

Exchanging a look with Xiao Mei, Mei folded her hands together, bowing her head and studying her fingers. They were stubby and short, and her nails were dirty, and, as if she realized that, she tucked her hands into her sleeves. "What do you want to know?" she asked finally.

"I don't know; what about…what was your mom like?"

Mei blinked rapidly. "My mother?" Her eyes suddenly swam with tears.

"Or – or something else! M-maybe your favorite place in Xing?"

"Home?" Tears spilled down her cheeks. "You want me to talk about home?"

_Oh, geeze!_ What could he say that wouldn't make her cry? "Um. If…if you want? I mean, I don't want to upset you!" He patted her shoulder, nearly over-extending himself and falling, but rocking back, saving himself from toppling over onto her.

Mei blinked up at him, wiping her eyes. "Alphonse-sama?"

"Uh, yes?"

"You nearly fell on me!"

Alphonse snapped, "I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Mei banged her palm on the floor repeatedly. "You did, too!" Xiao Mei bared her teeth, bouncing up and down in front of Alphonse.

Some days, Alphonse thought, it didn't pay to come back from wherever his soul went when he blacked out.


	26. Redemption is in the Eye of the Beholder

**Redemption is in the Eye of the Beholder**

* * *

It wasn't his choice – not to die like this, eaten by a homunculus to be used as ifuel/i for its body - but Kimbley had to admit, it wasn't the death he expected; when he was still alive, in a way, within Pride's body. This half-life could let him do something to avenge his death, perhaps strike back at the homunculus when he could.

It wasn't about redeeming himself, no, Kimbley had already made that clear when he'd spoken with Edward Elric – it was about being there when the story ended, and, if he had to do it from inside the body of another creature, so be it –he would view the endgame, and throw his hat in with the winners, whichever side it might be – and be damned if Pride took that away from him.


	27. Lucky

**Lucky  
**

* * *

He holds her close, smelling the death on her, the coppery tang of too much blood spilled – her blood – and knows this time, they're lucky.

Some time in the future, they might not be, and Roy knows that, too, but for now, he is only too aware that her heart is beating in her chest – labored, yes, she's lost so much blood – but still beating, and it will continue to beat, and she will live.

"Don't die on me," she whispers in his ear, and Roy squeezes his sightless eyes tightly closed.

"No. Never," he promises, hoping he doesn't lie.


	28. One in Every Crowd

**One In Every Crowd  
**

* * *

There's always one in every crowd.

Roy mostly turned a blind eye to it, because it allowed his men to bond, and other practical things that made his unit the well-oiled machine it was. Yes, so machines had glitches in them, such as when Havoc took the wheels off Breda's desk chair, hiding them in the outgoing box. Or when Breda slipped a bogus report onto Roy's desk involving a giant monster attacking South City. Those were workable, amusing, a way to let off steam.

Getting Edward Elric in on the jokes was never to be part of the bargain.


	29. Just His Type - Mustang Tachi

**Just His Type  
**

* * *

"You've got a type."

Havoc cocked an eyebrow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. "Doesn't everyone?"

Fuery glanced up from his desk. "What do you mean?"

"A type – you know, the kind of girl who can get your motor running." Havoc grinned. "Vroom, vroom!"

"Don't be crass," Breda said, leaning back in his chair far enough to make the springs squeal.

"Crass?"

Falman raised a single finger. "Lacking sensitivity," he said, "crude and unrefined."

"That's not me at all," Havoc grumbled. "I'm not crass. I've got tons of class. I wouldn't be able to get the girls if I didn't."

"What's this got to do with a type?" Fuery asked, shoving his glasses up his nose.

"Oh, Havoc, he's a boob man," Breda said. "He wants a girl with big," he cupped his hands and held them way out in front of his chest.

"Nothing wrong with a girl with some lung capacity." Havoc tucked his cigarette behind his ear, smiling. "What about you, Fuery? What do you find attractive?"

Put on the spot, Fuery blinked a couple of times, then pulled his glasses off to polish them furiously. "I don't know…I like smart girls, I guess."

"Smart is sexy," Breda agreed, and Falman nodded his approval.

"Yeah, I've seen Ed's mechanic." Havoc let out a low whistle. "They grow 'em good out in the country." He described an hourglass shape in the air. "And she's smart, too, if she can do that automail stuff." Winking at Fuery, he said, "So that's your type? A girl like Fullmetal's?"

"I guess…I haven't seen her. But if she's smart." Fuery flushed, putting his glasses back on.

"She would be," Falman said, "or extremely talented. She assisted with Edward's surgery and made his automail when she was eleven."

Breda let out a low, admiring whistle. "Gotta find a girl like that some day."

Fuery glanced toward Mustang's door. "What about the Colonel?" he asked. "What do you think his type is?"

Havoc snorted. "That's easy, Fuery." When the younger man turned his way, he grinned. "Breathing."


End file.
